


Sancti Vas Amoris

by VampbaitInfinity



Category: Thir13en Ghosts (2001)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Binge Drinking, Body Worship, Deepthroating, Drunken Confessions, Exhibitionism, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fingerfucking, Floor Sex, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Ghosts, Heavy Petting, Interracial Relationship, Kitchen Sex, Large Cock, London, Loss of Virginity, Maids, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Out of Body Experiences, Power Play, Public Sex, Romantic Friendship, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, S&M, Spanking, Trust Issues, Uniform Kink, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 17:35:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampbaitInfinity/pseuds/VampbaitInfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loneliness is something that Ryan was accustomed to, something that helped him be at peace with his other sins. But when he meets a girl that works in a brothel of all places, will he want to live in solitude any longer? Will she accept him? The Jackal/RyanxOC Smut in later chapters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simple Beginnings

~Author's P.O.V.~

The cool morning air slowly nudged London awake, slipping through windows left ajar and beneath doorways. Summer had passed and now Autumn was wrapping upon every door to start the day. The trees had begun to change from a vibrant green into a sickly yellow. The upper class of society roused first, putting on their best seasonal wear and enjoying their luxury. Noble women elaborately dressed in slightly thicker gowns, adorning their hair with the latest accessories and pins. Powdered faces and painted lips reflected in many mirrors as modest necklines were adorned with fabulous jewels and ribbons. The men dressed in the finest three-pieced suits, tucking scented handkerchiefs in their jacket pockets and combing their hair back in a respectable manner. The rest of London awoke with aching backs and rough hands from the previous days work. They began tidying up their shops; Women began sending their husbands or children off to work with meager lunch pails of simple but tasty food cooked with love, kisses on their foreheads and secure hugs keeping them warm.

In the red light districts, however, prostitutes of both genders were just going to sleep. Unloading the few or many pounds they'd earned that night, they let themselves drift off into a dreamless sleep. Brothel owners shooed drunken stragglers off their doorsteps, collecting their keep and locking their doors for the morning. Free agents, prostitutes without pimp or brothel retreated back to their ramshackle homes careful not to wake their children or just plain bombarding through the door to an empty house to face the sins that the day brought to light.

Diticia was no different. She been awake all night tending to the needs of clientele and whore alike, bringing alcohol and changing bed sheets soiled in excrement of all sorts. She worked quickly and soundly, staying out of everyone's way as she carried out endless tasks. She didn't want to risk another flogging for spilling a drink or not tying a corset tight enough to conceal the milky fat of a courtesan further into her years. She often found it ironic that her name derived from the Latin word for fertility when that was the absolute last thing any woman in the house wanted. They went to vast extremities trying to prevent children ranging from risky abortion procedures to anti-conceptual remedies proscribed by shady doctors and folklore alike.

The girl was more than happy to work her fingers to the bone, however, if it meant she would never have to bed even a single one of the disgusting men that frequented her mistress Andromeda's brothel. She despised them, not just because she was well aware of the sinful occurrences behind closed doors, but because she was appalled that they could betray the loyal families that awaited their return with trust and love that she so craved. And yet, here the men of London came to satisfy their sick desires or get a quick fuck between their wives pregnancies. It made her almost sick with rage when she would go to town for supplies and see the very same men happily carrying on with their lives and families as if they had not just been inside of a filthy slut mere hours before. Personally, she would rather never be with a man, never to experience the sickening sensations of being used repeatedly. She didn't hate men, but merely was put off of the idea of ever being with one, as she wasn't exactly one a man would choose to marry.

In her eyes, her appearance wasn't one that would turn many heads for a good reason. Though, she was beautiful, the abandoned child of some mulatto whore and a foreign man along his travels. She had often been asked to join the harem, her exotic looks sure to make a sum: dark and thick ebony locks that fell to her shoulders in a mass, childish heart-shaped face, doe-like almond eyes, light brown skin, full pink lips, large breasts, shapely backside, curvy waist and wide-set hips that were hidden beneath her skirts along with her welcoming legs. At nearly eighteen years of age, she only became more graceful with the passing year. She was neither hated nor loved, skimming along the fringes of society and never asking for more.

Kneeling on sore knees before a wooden bucket, Diticia began to wring lukewarm water from the bedsheets she had spent hours scrubbing blood and semen stains from. Droplets of the water gathered around the knees of her slightly damp dress, the faded red cotton fabric of the simple gown absorbing a few. Her tawny brow was damp with a familiar sweat, the exposed skin of her upper back prickling as a cool breeze blew past her. She rose stiffly, her back aching as it always did after a long night of work. Walking slowly to her stepping stool, she positioned it and began to hang the sheet on the clothesline. She smiled fondly at her work, stepping down carefully as the thin petty coat she wore would often trip her.

"Almost done.", she whispered with a grimace as she turned to empty the bucket into the gutter. She jumped and grabbed the rim of the bucket to stop the flow of water as some seeped out to slosh onto the worn black dress shoes of a man passing bye. She panicked, immediately pulling a rag from her apron and kneeling to quickly dry his shoes. "I'm so so sorry, sir! I didn't see you walking and...I'm sorry."

"It is...alright.", he voiced from above her, clearly startled. She finished drying his shoes, hoping he would not yell at her or tell her mistress. She had no energy to defend herself from the feared wooden cane. Looking up at the young man, she waited for him to say something that hopefully put her mind at ease. "It's fine. It was just a splash. You do not have to worry so much."

"Thank you. Thank you and I apologize again.", the young man watched her quizzically as the strange girl got to her feet and curtsied to him before averting her eyes from his gaze to empty the bucket of water a ways away from him.

"Ah...miss?", the raven haired man warily approached her, grabbing her attention immediately.

"Yes, sir?", her voice was small and guarded.

"Why are you cleaning so feverently? I mean no disrespect, but this is a brothel.", there was curiosity and eminent disgust in his deep voice.

"I must. Mistress will bludgeon me fiercely if I don't finish my work by mid-morning.", she seemed fearful at the mere thought of it.

"I don't mean to pry, but are you a prostitute?"

She was taken aback by his bluntness, but shook her head no.

"Then why do you slave for your mistress?"

"She took me in when I was but a babe. I owe her my life...I'd much rather work than be a courtesan anyway.", she still avoided his gaze, her hands clasped tightly around the hem of her apron.

Beside himself, he smiled at her answer. He liked that she was one of the few beautiful women who would not sell themselves for a price. Her timid and fidgety behavior gave away that she was not unaccustomed to punishment, her shoulders were hunched defensively at his close proximity. He felt for her, taking a step back not wanting to frighten her.

"If I may be so bold, I appreciate your choice. Sorry if I have inconvenienced you. Good day, miss.", he bowed, taken aback as their eyes finally met.

She gasped softly at the startling blue of his gaze, looking down quickly and returning his gesture with a deep curtsy.

"Good day..."

She collected her bucket, hurrying into the doorway and closing the door behind her softly. After waiting a moment behind the door, she reopened it, peeking her head out to see if he was still there. He stood, waving his fingers in a gentle gesture, his head turned to the side with a teasing smile. She yelped, closing the door back securely and locking it before hurrying away to finish her chores with a heavy blush.

Ryan felt almost disappointed that the girl didn't check to see if he'd left again. She was quite the interesting person. He felt a pleasant warmth that he had rarely ever felt toward another human manifest in his chest. He remembered how frightened she'd looked when he'd first approached her, odd giving that she lived in one of the most popular whore houses in London. She seemed all too happy to get away from him...that is, until she had peered around the doorway like a child would to see if the sweets cart had visited their street yet. He smiled, and shook his head as he continued on his way to town.

Perhaps today the dice would be in his favor, his reward a few pounds and a full stomach. At nineteen years of age, the bar patrons knew him well as a master cards player and a man that could hold his liquor. Involved in several hustles and an errand boy for several small business drug lords, Ryan lived freely how he wanted. That is, until he had to return home to the vile woman he had the misfortune of calling 'Mother'. He spent as much time as possible outside of his home, using his wit and cunning to feed himself as she had forgotten that he required sustenance long ago. He really just didn't want to have to hear her forced moans of pleasure as she was fucked by her numerous clients. It literally made him sick to his stomach to have to hear them through the thick cement walls of his tiny room.

He came to the alley where a man with the popular handlebar mustache and a top hat waited patiently, his dingy dress shirt and brown slacks making him almost completely blend with the dark atmosphere. He put out his rolled cigarette as Ryan approached, his eyes flickering off into the distance to check if the coast was clear.

"Nice to see you again, Kuhn. Thought you weren't going to show up. What kept ya?", he patted him familiarly on the shoulder.

"Whorehouse.", Ryan shrugged handing the man a small tin filled to the brim with opium without much thought.

The man smiled a yellow-toothed grin, taking the tin and tucking it into his trouser's pocket, nodding knowingly. "You sure do have a way with the ladies, mate."


	2. I Want to Break Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Next chapter coming out this week! Don't worry! I do't just let my stories die. Review please! 3 )

Author's P.O.V.

Diticia carefully walked out of the sweet shop, piping hot breads and sweets in a bundle tucked beneath her chin as she craned her neck to over her numerous bags and bundles of supplies for the brothel. Though the load was heavy, she absolutely loved when her mistress would send her to town. It meant she was free if only for a few hours from the suffocating atmosphere that seemed to hang over the district like a smog. The moment she set foot outside of it, her personality would completely blossom. She found herself smiling at the smallest things. From a child's laughter to a startled horse nearly knocking over a milk cart-any and everything put her in a better mood. She especially loved going to the bread shop, as the baker always had a lot of extras and would load her up with them just for her idle chatter and good company.

The old man and his son ran the place, his wife long deceased but remembered fondly. His son, a tall red-headed boy about the age of sixteen, didn't seem to like her much. Whenever she would greet him he would just cut his eyes at her and frown, making her suddenly recall that her simple but few rose colored dresses and black choker must be nothing compared to the gorgeously decorated gowns and jewelry women flaunted these days. She longed for him to at least smile at her instead of recoiling from Diticia's advances or ogling her with a strangely intense gaze from the vast kitchen.

That particular day, he had given her six loaves of sweet breads and a tiny box of fresh caramels 'just for her'. Her eyes sparkled with glee as he'd handed her one to eat before she left the bakery, his pudgy hands holding his large belly proudly as she savored the melting delicacy on her tongue. She sighed with content, humming her approval of the treat. He merely laughed and shooed her gently out of the shop with a soft hand to her back.

She always did think of the old baker fondly. She appreciated his kindness, even toward his cold-hearted son. She wondered what had made him dislike her so much. Padding down the street as quickly as she could with the days work load, the girl watched as men came out to light the street lamps and giggling children were shooed into their homes for supper. The setting sun was her signal that if she did not hurry, she would be late. Diticia tucked the bread beneath her ample bosom so her view would not be obscured and sprinted toward the town.

She realized with a slight grimace that she would have to walk past the strip of bars to get home. She was in no mood to dodge a bunch of old drunks. Sighing with annoyance, she picked up the pace to get it over with as quickly as possible. As if on cue, a round of wolf whistles and drunken laughter erupted as she quickly passed through. It was much too early for them to already be this far gone. She side stepped a man in a bowler hat as he made a grab for her elbow, he fell heavily onto her foot which she yanked from under him.

"Where ya goin', love? Why not hang stick around for a spell?", a chubby man rasped, bottle in hand and eyeing her suggestively.

"Leave me be.", she said through clenched teeth, he eyes darting around as a few men began to form a circle around her.

"But why? A fine lass such as yourself has no business wandering the streets at this time of night. Why not have a drink with us? We'd be sure to look after ya.", a strangely skinny man with large hands said, coming right up to touch her arm.

She wrenched away from him as if she'd been burned. "Piss off, mug."

"Well now! That's no way for a lady to be talking. Even a whore daughter like yourself.", the chubby one said, putting his meaty hands on his hips in mock offense.

"Go back to pissing yourselves silly and wanking in each other's faces. I won't say it again-leave me be!", her heart rate picked up as she pulled away from another man that tried to grab her. She could scarcely see them all around the multitude of groceries and was beginning to panic. She spoke in a much louder voice, trying to shout over the ruckus within the pub. "Get away from me before I bloody rip your knobs off!"

"Oh! Is she takin' a piss? What's a slut like you going to do? ", he bared his yellowed teeth as the others quickly closed in on her.

Yanking her bags from her arms, the slender one came up behind her to try and subdue her. His green eyes widened as she turned on him and slugged him across the face so hard he spun and hit the nearby brick wall. Another larger man came up and grabbed her wrists in a vice grip trying to pull her into an alley while the chubby one grabbed her waist. She thrust her head back into the mans nose, knocking off his top hat in a spurt of blood. She was no match for the strength of the one pulling her into the alley, quickly followed by several others who noticed the scene and wanted in on the action.

She screamed loudly as he pushed her up against a wall and pinned her wrists above her head, another grabbing her ankles and spreading them apart. She saw stars as one suddenly back handed her hard enough for her to taste blood. The chubby one staggered up to her whilst cupping his nose and mouth protectively. He sneered a bloody smile and grabbed up her skirts, snickering in her face as she tensed to flail her limbs at him. He pressed himself up against her, loosening his belt. She felt sick with fear as something hard pressed against her hip. The other men snickered and jeered, as he grabbed her large breasts in his hands, watching him fondle her roughly, awaiting their turns.

"What a feisty one ya are.", he commented, jumping back as she tried to savagely bite his throat. "This is goin' to be fun."

She tensed as shimmied his pants around his ankles, her brown eyes pricking with tears when hopelessness gripped her heart. She struggle fiercely, yelping in pain as he grabbed her hair to hold her still. She recoiled from his revolting breath that stank of alcohol and cigars as he leaned into her.

"WAIT! STOP!"

Diticia looked up in shock, her body trembling with fear and fat tears rolling down her face.

"Wait your turn, boy!", he bellowed, lining his hips with hers.

"Wait! You can't do this! Not now at least! The bartender is cross that none of you have payed him. You've drank your fill and left to bang a whore in an alley. He has already alerted the authorities that you lot have been involved with opium as of late. I'd leave now unless your willing to pay your weight in pounds to the bartender and to make bail.", the voiced boomed from the alley's opening.

Everyone froze, their drunken states making them fear the wrath of the queen more than Death himself. The wave of men quickly dispersed down the opposite exit, the frightened girl shaking violently in place as she watched them go. After a moment, she darted toward the man whisking past him and towards where her packages should have lay. They had been pillaged and not even her tin of caramels was left. She turned on her heel to leave the accursed place and run home, a hard chest stopping her and large hands grabbing her shoulders as she began to fall backwards.

"No! No please-", she flailed out at him, clawing at his hands through tear soaked eyes.

"Calm down! It's me! It's me!", a familiar voice whispered harshly, gripping her upper arms tighter.

She focused her gaze on the man and was able to make out the striking blue of his concerned eyes. She all but pissed herself with relief and flung herself into his arms, sobbing violently into his chest as her small hands fisted themselves in the back of his vest. He smelled slightly of alcohol but his natural scent was overpowering and wonderfully masculine. He tensed in shock but immediately returned the embrace. Ryan supported her, rubbing soothing circles into her bare upper back. There were dark hand prints all over her dress and her hair was as disorderly as the rest of her. He smelt the drunken men on her, their scents slightly tinging the clean floral scent he'd never noticed before. When she had settled down a bit he pulled her back so he could look at her. There was a small line of blood at the corner of her lip and her right cheek looked a bit swollen, but other than that she seemed fine. He sighed with relief, thanking the heavens that he'd come before they'd ruined her.

"Are you alright? The bastards didn't hurt you too much did they?," she blushed at his tenderness. The feeling of being fussed over was not something she was accustomed to-she relished every second of it.

"I'm okay. You came just in time. Oh god, they were going to...all of them!", she looked sickened as she realized just how much danger she had been in. Then, she suddenly went pale, her almond shaped eyes widening and making a chill run down his spine. "Mistress Andromeda...she is going to kill me!"She took off into a run, catching him completely off guard before he started after her, matching her pace quickly.

"Are you sure you're alright? You shouldn't be running off alone!", he yelled she turned abruptly down a few alleys to use a shortcut.

"I won't be okay if I don't make it home! She is going to be furious!", Diticia could already feel the throbbing pain of the cane and stinging slap of sharp red nails across her face.

Ryan instantly caught on to her fear. She was savagely beaten for her short comings. That explained why she was so reserved when they'd first met and why she was nearly killing herself running home to not anger her mistress further. This was why he hated those women with a passion, all so evil and out to get each other if that meant money. The dark haired young man followed the auburn girl closely. After a few minutes they both arrived in the district they called home. Diticia made a few right turns down the main street and cut through a tight space between two buildings, coming up to face the vast building that was her home. She hesitated, clearly afraid.

"Y-you...you should go home. It's late.", the girl whispered with downcast eyes. He tenderly grabbed her wrists.

"...I live nearby. Just a few blocks away, actually. If there is any way I can help-I mean if you need help...I'm close by."

His offer made her smile despite herself, her fear lessening just a bit as his lengthy, strong fingers curled around her wrist. She turned to him, crouching in another curtsy. As she rose, they were both a bit startled as he hugged her tightly, his arms folding her body into his larger one. They stayed like that for a moment, her cheeks aflame with feeling and his heart aching for her. He found it strange that he could care for some woman he had just met so much. Maybe it was because she was not a prostitute or foul by any means. She was just...nice.

"Thank you...for everything.", her voice shook a bit as she forced herself away from his warm embrace. He felt almost rejected but soon realized her urgency to face her fate. She just wanted her beating to be over quickly. Reluctantly he left her walk solemnly into the building. His throat began to ache, his stomach coiling in aggravated knots of worry. She shut the door behind her, his heart sinking at the notion that he knew she would not peer back out to check if he was still there as she did before.

And he still did not know her name.

Diticia swiftly made her way down the main corridor and up the stairs to the highest floor, going to the only door on the entire floor. Knocking quickly three times, she opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She walked up to the huge desk and stood erect, her head lowered to her chest and fists balled nervously at her sides. She did not utter a sound, only waited for the hefty woman in the chair to let out that final breath of smoke and put her cigarette out. The brunette woman regarded the girl with slight disinterest. Lifting her large mass with a huff of exertion, Andromeda Thomas snuffed out her cigarette and approached the girl, her eyes scanning the girls' shaken appearance. Her long but revealing emerald gown trailed behind her as she circled Diticia, making the poor girl feel like she was being wrapped up by a python.

"Where are the groceries, Diticia?",she finally said, looking down on her through her glassy eyes.

"I...I was attacked by a group of men on my way back and they were all stolen outside of a bar.", she nearly whispered, her fingernails digging into her sweaty palms.

"And you just let a bunch of bums steal our food and supplies whilst you spread your legs for a crowd of men on the streets free of charge?", the large woman pursed her lips, distaste clear in her expression.

"No!...Ma'am, I did not let anyone do a thing! As I said, I was attacked. And when I finally managed to escape, my load had been stolen.", the raven haired girl explained, biting back the fear that threatened to make her lose her train of thought.

"Hm. Well, no reason to worry about that. As for now, we must find a way for you to pay me back."

"Surely! I will do whatever task you demand! I am deeply sorry and beg your forgiveness, madame.", Diticia curtsied respectfully, a sigh of relief leaving her tense body.

"Oh no no no! That won't nearly be enough to pay me back all of that money. I've been thinking about it recently and I think it's about time you join ranks. Because of your experience near the pubs and your years under my care, I'm sure you know just what men will expect of you to be considered satisfactory. There have already been some requests. You will have payed me back before the night is over!", the woman's white makeup seemed ghastly under the blaze of the lanterns. Her fat, flabby cheeks jiggling as she cackled down at her expression. The young girl's stomach clenched in fear at the realization of what Andromeda wanted her to do.

"I...no! I can't-NO!"

"No? Well, deary, who said you even had a choice? You owe me money, you work for me, you live under my room. If I say you have to fuck every man in London to pay me back, you'll do just that!"

"No!"

"It's either you open your legs or you get the bloody hell out of my brothel.", the woman leaned forward, all traces of a smile gone from her porky face, her thin red lips turning downward.

"...I won't. I can't...-", the fat woman seized the youth's throat in her meaty hands and squeezed until her lesser's eyes began to water.

"Listen you little prude. You are going to become a part of this harem and make me some money. You have been living a life of luxury while the rest of us bust our humps pleasing these bastards that waddle through our door at all hours of the night. You will get down from your little high horse of virginity and sell your little fanny to whoever wants it. DO you hear me?! You will become a whore!", the hag screamed into her face, bits of spittle landing on her paling cheeks from the lack of air.

"-I...wont...!", she choked forcing her brown eyes not to cross and stay focused on the awful woman.

Before she could register what happened, she was face down on the desk, her head spinning from the lack of oxygen and her temple in a searing kind of pain. She felt horribly nauseous and sputtered on every heave of air she dragged into her lungs. The next thing she felt was the heavy impact of that notorious cane hitting her back and legs repeatedly. She screamed in agony and twisted every which way as the wretch bludgeoned her with all her might. She beat and beat the poor girl until her own voice was hoarse from yelling, a thin layer of blood covering her cane and an unconscious Diticia laid curled withing herself to defend her vitals even as her mind left her body.

The woman cursed under her breath at the mess and wiped her cane on the hem of the girl's wine colored dress. Composing herself and fixing her disheveled hair, she called for the man she used to enforce her will. He came in and did as she instructed, carrying the girl's body far from the district and toward a park, dumping her under a bench to die.

Ryan had been unable to go home, deciding instead to wander the city streets until he came to his favorite park in the upperclass parts of town. He was in no mood to deal with his mother's incessant groaning through the walls. He was not tired either. He was merely...worried? No, that couldn't possibly be the sentiment that had been plaguing since he had left that house of ill repute. Was it because he found himself to blame, somehow? No, he had saved her from those ruffians who surely would have ruined her and left her for the dogs. He had saved her from that but, as he well knew, there would be hell to pay if she angered her mistress. That vile Andromeda woman was especially infamous for running a tight shift and keeping tabs on all of her whores. She wasn't the owner of the most frequented brothel in London for no reason.

A frigid chill suddenly seized his spine so fiercely that he stopped in his tracks. He thought back to a newspaper article a few years back about a young woman that had been beaten to death after attempting to escape a brothel. She was described as a shockingly well taken care of and healthy-looking woman in expensive looking clothes. Almost no women in their district had the money for the kinds of garments and jewelry except for the ones provided for Andromeda's girls. But, Ryan had never seen the girl in any kind of frivolous drapery or fashions as was expected of all under that particular bawdy again, she was not a prostitute. Just a lowly servant girl was probably not permitted any kind of luxury without a price... a price...Oh, God, why didn't he trust his instincts. She was in a terribly real kind of danger!

The dark haired youth spun on his heel to make his way swiftly back to her. A pained hack caught his attention and he tensed at the piercing sound that ended the surrounding quiet. Something in his gut told him that this was something to look into-thoroughly. Without skipping a beat, he walked further into the park, the damp grass sprinkling his shoes. His eyes narrowed in focus, the dim moonlight and thick fog obscuring his vision. A faint, choked gurgle made his whip his head to the right. He saw only a bench but decided to investigate. The youth slowly approached with caution, tucking a stray lock of his midnight hair behind his ear. The seat of the oak bench was bare, this he could see even through the thick fog; his foot stepped on something both soft and hard, causing him to kneel down for a better look. A large mass of fabric was wedged tightly beneath it.

With some deliberation, he reached out and pulled with both hands-he almost shrieked with horror as the very girl he wished to save rolled limply into his lap, covered in blood. He covered his mouth, afraid his stomach would expel itself. Reaching out with shaky hands, he grabbed the poor girl up in his arms-she was cold as death. He recoiled slightly as she coughed up a glob of thick blood. She was alive, atleast, for now. He held her securely in his arms and ran off toward his home.

He'd be damned if he let her die.


	3. Patchwork

Ryan's P.O.V.

I sat back against the wall of my small room with my legs crossed, wiping the sweat from my brow to get a better look at the situation. The girl, whose name I still did not know, lay limp and quite unconscious in front of me, sprawled out across my bare mattress and clad in nothing but a few thick strips of cloth to cover her dignity. I'd had to undress the poor girl in order to find the various wounds along her body-there were many. It is a wonder that she'd survived at all with the size of the knots along her spine. Skin flared red along the stitches I'd had to administer along the hollow behind her ear, her right hip, and just above the back of her knee. Bruises began to develop along her body in both long and short impressions. With some warm water and a steel nerve, I'd been able to patch her up without much thought or feelings of sadness...

It was as I wrapped my thin, grey blanket around her mostly nude body, that I let myself feel anything. A wave of dread and anger washed over me, heating my body from my feet on upward until I felt as if I would set the room ablaze. My hands gripped the knees of my trousers, blood-stained nails digging into my kneecaps, as I forced back the emotional tears with the persistence that only a man of can display effectively.

I'd left her. I'd left her and that blasted old whore had beaten this poor girl to near death and dumped her in a back alley to be eaten by dogs! I could not fathom the possibility of what might've happened, had I not though to look in the park. The scourges of the earth felt like nobles compared to the way I loathed myself. Even more so, I'd had sully her privacy and undress the lass against her whim-despite it was only to give medical attention. Never the less, it felt wrong. Wrong and...intimate. Yes, I'd had my pick of the litter with many a harlot. No, many of them were not prostitutes and I'd kept a few for a period of time for company, or rather, until I'd become bored with them. I'd seen a variety of woman of all shapes and sizes, pleasured them in ways their future-or current- husbands never could. Yet, as I'd averted my eyes upon stripping the tawny skinned girl of her dressings, I'd never before wanted to turn back more. The though that I could not look set my nerves on high alert to every slight brush of soft, warm skin. Even her blood on my hands felt much too sacred for me to allow, I'd quickly rubbed them clean.

Many a times I'd inwardly flogged myself for the action of my eyes momentarily tracing the curves of her waist or hips, I'd had to literally pinch myself as my eyes wandered to the swell of her large breasts, her hardened nipples protruding through the white rags I'd tossed across them to stave off my own curiousness. Upon mending her back and leg wounds, I had pricked myself something fierce with the needle at the sight of her backside. God, she was magnificent. But as my hand found it's way to the top of her thigh, her breath hitched, her fingers twitching ever so slightly. This innocent and vulnerable display made my stomach coil with guilt as I'd pulled away to try and suppress the need straining against the buttons of my trousers. At that moment, I'd hated myself almost as much as I did the woman for doing this to her. And even that rivaled with my hatred for the woman I was remorseful to call mother.

Her midnight hair was tousled and,by the look of it, hadn't and blood in it. My anger and self hatred eased by a fraction as I gazed upon her slumbering face. Dark circles beneath her eyes gave away just how tired she'd been. And with her life, it's a wonder she had not collapsed days before. I thought back to the day I'd met her, my fingers pinching the fringes of my dress shirt to keep them from wanting to stroke the rosy skin of her open palm, mere inches away. She'd been so afraid, so guarded yet full of life. I'd fallen subject to her penetrating gaze even before seeing her persona, something uncommon for me. The girl was a wonder in herself, captivating me in and out of consciousness with little more then a fraction of a gaze or the tender, warm skin of her calve. Even her faint fragrance drew me in to the point where I clenched my legs together in denial.

Perhaps it was that I hadn't made a "conquest" in a few days. Yes, that definitely had to be it. I hadn't bedded and girls lately and so a virgin, a nude virgin in my bed has made me restless. All I had to do was go out and reacquaint myself with some old friends, The girl was napping and well, already beginning to heal. I'd be back before she roused and I'd be satisfied...yes...that's what I'd do. I looked upon the girl's sleeping face momentarily before quickly getting to my feet and sweeping out of the room, forgetting the need of my coat and heading to the home of one of my favorites. I would not even acknowledge the strange pang of guilt that welled in my gut.

"Ah, Ryan! I'd hoped to see you again soon. Come in, quickly!", the young woman beckoned me in, quickly and quietly closing the door before leaning back against the door and turning to me with that familiar grin. "So glad you came, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

I watched her bite her red lower lip, her cornflower locks lying flush against her pale shoulder and thin cashmere robe. It was late, yet she was still in full makeup. Perhaps she'd been expecting me? Her golden eyes took me in as I approached her, her soft robe falling around her ankles and my hands immediately finding her slender waist. She pulled me down into a soft kiss, the tenderness and slow pace angering me for some reason. Without a word, I picked her up and dragged her over to a nearby table, the expensive display being quickly knocked to the ground. She hungrily yanked my suspenders free of my trouser, undoing the fly quickly to free my already hard member.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I've needed this!", she groaned, wiggling her hips against my leg and leaning up to kiss my chest.

I growled, pushing her back down, "Don't wake your husband, Amelia.", I warned as she began to stroke me.

"That old crone can barely hear! I can be as loud as-Ah, God!", I silenced her with a quick thrust straight to her core, my cock instantly forcing her walls apart as I began a quick but rough rhythm. She grabbed my chest in an attempt to steady herself, ripping open the top of my shirt. A few buttons hit the floor before she could even gasp. I began to pound into her moderately-tight heat. She moaned wantonly, her legs splayed apart on either side of me and her small breasts jiggling delightfully.

I'd always been notorious for being an aggressive lover, my skills easily bringing both her and many others to climax fairly easily. Yet, I was not satisfied by merely this. I hadn't had enough even as her walls tightened around me. No, I was far from finished. I flipped her over onto her stomach and fucked her from behind with all of my might, disregarding everything but my own pleasure and climax as my hands imprinted bruises along the bones of her hips. I even forced away the notion of the girl I'd saved, taking that moment in time for myself and no one else. The table grated the pieces of fallen glass and priceless pottery into the wall, my grunts of exertion the only sounds to my ears whilst she screamed her head off in ecstasy. By the time the sun began to rise, I realized just how long I'd been at it.

"Amelia, are you alive?", I whispered, shaking her shoulder a bit rougher than I'd meant to.

"Mmmm..."

"Good.", I redressed and left quickly, assured that she would be cleaned up and back in bed before Sir Woodward awoke. Not that I really cared. She'd just been a good fuck, is all. It would just be a slight inconvenience. The early dawn chilled me as I made my way back toward the poorer part of the city, my shoes kicking up gravel along the way. And by the time I reached my house, my bitch of a mother was passed out in front of her door with her skirts up around her thighs and clenching a beer bottle. I tried not to gag as I ducked into my room, surprised to see that the girl was still in the same position as I'd left her and still very asleep. She must've been even more tuckered out than I'd thought.

Before I could help myself, I picked up her dress and lay it over her for extra warmth before curling up on the floor in the space between the mattress and the wall. Disregarding the familiar cold, I let sleep quickly take me before regret got the chance to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Next chapter coming out soon! Review please! :3...if you can...I'm still kinda new here so sorry if AO3 doesn't have that >_


	4. Master Kuhn

Author's P.O.V.

"W-what...?", quiet sobs roused Ryan from his heavy slumber, alerting him to the vexatious rays of morning.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the back of his palm, he looked down to where the incessant sounds were coming from. It took him a moment to notice the syringe pointed directly at his face.

"Why have you brought me here? And if you lie, I'll gouge your bloody eyes out.", Diticia was barely able to keep the tremor out of her voice, her bare skin chilly in the crisp morning air that flowed freely through the cracks in the shack's wall. She clutched her torn dress to her chest, obscuring as much from his view as possible, though she was sure he'd seen much more already. "Who are you?"

Ryan cleared his throat, raising his hands with his palms outstretched in surrender. " I am Ryan Kuhn. I saved your life-"

"-by undressing me and peeking at me while I was unconscious?! You're just like all of those other men! I cannot believe that I actually bloody fancied y-"

"I didn't peek at you, you insufferable woman! I brought ya back from beneath a piss covered bench to my humble abode and stitched up your wounds. Too bad ya weren't knocked out longer. I actually enjoyed not having my life flash before my eyes.", he spat, his icy tone so unlike the silky voice he'd addressed her with in their previous encounter. A twinge of fearful submission shot through her heart as she lowered the syringe, instead attempting to pull her tattered dress further over herself as she dabbed at her tearful eyes. "Now then, since you've sobered a bit, tell me. How did you end up all the way in Hyde Park? And in such a state! You could've died."

Diticia swallowed, fidgeting with the stitches along her hairline in favor of pulling at the delicate strands of her sore head.

"Answer me, girl." Ryan's tone was icy, his fixed gaze equally chilling. He was not accepting anything short of a full explanation.

"...Mistress was...she was cross that I'd arrived late." She flickered her gaze upward, his expression prodding her for more information. She took a breath and continued. "She did not like the fact that I arrived without a single package I'd been sent for. She said I would have to work to get rid of that debt as well. I was nearly sobbing with gratitude and relief that she decided not to beat me...that is, until she proposed another way of me working off my debts."

"She wanted you to join the ranks?"

"Yes. I was so taken aback that I simply stated that I would never do it. And that was when she got angry...I just-I couldn't defend myself. She wanted to sell me off to those disgusting men and when I refused she just kept beating me and beating me...I don't even remember her stopping. I only remember staring and my blood smeared across her desk and wondering if when I died, if I would have been thought to have been one of those-"

"Whores."

Diticia nodded sadly, looking off toward a corner to hinder the tears trying to spill from her eyes. She knew better than to cry in front of men. The saw that as weakness. And though this one was more than kind, she could not drop her guard for even a moment. It's the only way she knew.

Running a hand through his raven hair, Ryan sighed and closed his eyes. "Blimey. That old bitch really had it out for you, yeah? I didn't know for sure if you were going to wake or not. But I'm glad ya did."

"I really do appreciate your kindness, sir.",the girl was fidgeting again, pulling the edges of her gown further across her body. She flinched as the movement strained her stitches. "Please, do tell me that these injuries aren't permanent?"

"None of your wounds were enough to have to take you to an infirmary. But that one on your hip really worried me. It was nothing short of a miracle that the broad didn't break your hip! It'll smart something fierce for the next month, but you should be able to walk long before then."

"Her lackeys didn't see you did they?! If she finds out where you live, she'll send them her- ah! Christs' knickers!", she had been leaning across the bed toward him in her panic, thus causing more stress on her stitches until they finally ripped.

"Hold still! You're bleeding again! Lie back and let me have a look-stop struggling and let me see!", he yelled, holding her down upon the mattress until she got a grip. Once sure that she would not move again, he carefully peeled a portion of her dress from her hip and pressed a alcohol dampened cloth against the blood that had already begun to run into the fabric of her garment. She hissed at the sting of it, trembling with pain. He quickly pulled the broken stitches from her skin and re threaded a needle with the thick thread. "I haven't the time to numb your pain this time. You'll have to bear with me."

As she felt his hot hand against her upper thigh, she bit the back of her hand and turned away with her eyes clamped tightly shut. A howl of agony was muffled into her hand as the needled pierced her tender flesh, that same hand holding her down as she began to flinch away. Tears were steadily flowing down her cheeks before the young man had even completed the second stitch. And by the time he had closed the wound completely, her throat was hoarse, her eyes puffy with tears, the back of her hand deeply bruised and slightly bleeding from crescent moon shaped lacerations.

A deep moan escaped her again as he cleaned off the remaining blood, removing his hand from her upper thigh to see a bruise in the shape of his palm glowing amethyst and hot right back at him. Wiping his hands, the Ryan sat back on the edge of his mattress, watching quietly as the girl's sobs subsided and her trembling minimized. Once sure that she was about her wits again, he grabbed a clean cloth and leaned over her, mopping her tears from her face and neck as her bosom heaved deeply. He almost missed her bloody hand but managed to pry it from between her teeth and clean that too. "Are you alright?"

"...that almost rivaled the beating.", she managed in a weak voice, reaching a hand down to cover her leg again. "Would you please help me up so that I can put on my gown?"

Stifling a blush, he laced an arm around her back and hauled her carefully onto her feet as Diticia clutched her dress to herself. Steadying herself against him, she fought the urge to immediately force him out of the room. Instead, she instructed him to shut his eyes and hold her steady as she slipped the garment over her head. Once it met the tops of her bare feet, she asked him again to assist her by tying the laces of the built-in corset. She tried not to tremble at the feel of his sweltering fingers along the curve of her back, expertly hiding her flush by feigning she was smoothing the curls of her flowing mane.

Ryan, however, was inwardly warring with himself, the soft scent of her hair and skin eliciting very male reactions from him, not to mention that her abundant backside was mere inches from his groin or that he was assembling her underwear. He eventually decided to hold his breath and think of his mother's face. That seemed to help. A lot.

Once full garbed, Ryan helped her back down onto the mattress and folded his blanket over a few times for her to recline against. He'd have to invest in a pillow.

"Do you wish to stay here?"

Diticia looked up suddenly with wide eyes. "I couldn't possibly! You've already done so much for me that I c-"

"Do you have any place else to go?"

"No, but-"

"Any relatives?"

"I'm an orphan."

"You haven't got a penny to your name."

"Mistress never-"

"And you have no experience but for being a maid, I presume?"

"Well...-" She trailed off, defeated.

"Than it's settled. You will stay with me and be my maid to earn your keep." Ryan stood up, walking over to a small closet on the far wall and dropping to his knees before it. He opened a trunk and began to rummage through. After a moment, he found what he'd been looking for and returned to Diticia's side, motioning for her to hold out her hand. He dropped a number of powder white pills into her hand. "You'll take one of these every morning and every night. They'll help you heal faster and fight infection.

"How do you know so much about medicine? Are you a doctor?", she tried not to sound too skeptical.

"When you live in the slums of London, accidents happen. You need to know how to fix these accidents.", he stated matter-of-factly.

And with that, Ryan helped her back into bed. He left the room and returned with a lit oil lamp, extra matches, two novels, a flask and a tin with something sweet smelling and warm inside. The girl could not recall the last time she'd eaten. Her mouth immediately began to water as he set the items down within arms reach. She almost didn't notice Ryan pulling on his jacket and heading for the door.

"Where are you going?", she tried to keep the panic out of her voice but it was plain as day on her face.

"I've a few errands to run now that I've got a...guest. Stay here until nightfall when you hear the door open and then shut. After that, you may have a look around. I strongly advise you to stay in the house and keep the door locked. This isn't the nicest neighborhood, as you may recall. I shall return shortly after dusk. Rest now."

Just as he was about to shut the door, "Wait!"

"Yes, love?", he inquired.

Blushing at the pet name, "May I know your name?"

"...Call me Master Kuhn.", he said with a smirk before closing the door behind him and leaving to fulfill a number of daily tasks, including a set of errands to prepare himself and his home for the new arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hope this was worth that long ass wait! I'm terribly sorry but my senior year was a bitch! Thankfully, I'll be updating much more often this summer. Thank you for reading, as well. Please, keep commenting! I love hearing what you guys have to say. :) )


	5. Dare to Want

Author's P.O.V.

 

Ryan swiped his onyx bang from his forehead, the scent of cleaning agents and rubbing alcohol permeating through the door. The male was certainly surprised to see the main room swept and polished clean, the table and single chair shined and sanded to their brightest potential. There were scrubbing sounds loud enough to be heard through the shutters at the window-Ryan guessed that she was already awake.

He unlocked the door, stepping inside and closing it behind himself before turning the large lock, and THEN he allowed himself to look around the room. It was the cleanest it had ever been, the cobwebs and dust bunnies cleared from every corner. The walls and floor were almost glossy in their cleanliness. His eyes strayed to the kitchen area, the few dishes he owned stacked neatly on a freshly cleaned towel, the silverware shinned to luminescence. The chairs next to the rickets table had red cushions, something he'd never been able to tell before. The wobbly table had a wedge of wood topped with a large folded leaf under the uneven foot, a note topped with a familiar -looking candy arranged atop a brilliantly white doily of floral patterns.

Ryan was enamored at the sweet scent of clean that permeated throughout his home, taking delight that even the shutters of the window had been painstakingly cleaned and polished. For once, he took pride in the appearance of his home. Maybe taking this girl on had been an even better idea than he thought.

Following the scrubbing sounds, the young man stopped at the gaping doorway to his restroom, watching the young woman with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders vigorously scrub the wooden floor with a strong smelling chemical, her opposite hand holding a rag over her face. He could not help but notice the backwards rocking of her hips as she worked on the floor-he could feel a stir in his loins already at her proximity and obliviousness. If he had a right mind, he could just...

Diticia sneezed, body tensing with the force of it.

"You're excused.", Ryan rasped, corralling his thoughts away from her backside and catching her eye with a soft smile. "Have you been at this all day?"

She chastely rolled her sleeves down to cover her arms and adjusted her skirts upon standing, "Thank you. And yes, I have been. I hope it's up to par. I didn't really have much to work with and I had to substitute a lot of-"

"You did an amazing job, love."

She blushed at his words, fidgeting with her fingers and tugging at her dress.

"Thank you, sir.", her smile was radiant.

Ryan offered her his hand, waiting patiently as she excused herself to scrub her own vigorously clean of the cleaning agents and drying them thoroughly. She placed her hand in his as he led her back towards the kitchen, pulling out a chair for her. It took the girl a moment to realize he'd meant for her to sit. Bashfully, she seated herself and watched him bring over a number of packages and set them on the table, one of them smelling particularly of something freshly baked, warm. her stomach immediately began to growl.

"Hungry, are we? That's right! I left you in here to starve! My apologies. But I've brought quite a few things back with me today, including a few things for you.", his gaze never wavered from hers during his explanation. She found his stare terribly overwhelming and often found herself looking away or attempting to hold his gaze, her heart hammering in her chest, her cheeks aglow. Ryan found it adorable. "Here."

"You...you shouldn't have.", the surprise and wonder in her voice suggested she might cry, but her eyes shone with, not tears, but unadulterated gratitude. "Thank you...so, so much."

"You've yet to open the blasted thing! Go on.", he chuckled, watching as her delicate fingers unlaced the carefully knotted twine bows and pulled away the linen paper. Carefully, she lifted the garment from the wrappings and lifted it into view. There in her hands, she held a very glamorous and short maid's uniform. Sitting in her lap just under the hem were a pair of white stockings, lace-up walking boots, A laced hair ribbon and matching choker, a coal colored corset, and several pairs of the new American-styled ladies underpants, complete with a lace trim across the waistband and a garter belt. "I've only had a look at the uniform and choker. The clerk of the shop suggested the rest, saying these things were highly popular in developing fashion across Europe and in America. I do hope you like it."

It felt as if her cheeks could grow no hotter. "They're all lovely, and i appreciate all of your trouble, really. But don't these things seem a bit...risque?"

"Not at all. They would definitely suit you."

"I..." At a loss for words, she could say nothing as he directed her to his bedroom to try on the clothing. After a lengthy amount of time and what sounded like a struggle, she emerged from the bedroom, her new boots clicking deftly against the floorboards. "I...I'm descent. I suppose."

Turning on his heel, Ryan was completely caught off guard by just how ravishing she looked. Yes, he expected it to fit her nicely and had had to guess at her measurements, but his miscalculations seemed to have been an enormous benefit to himself. The choker, boots and stockings fit her perfectly, but the uniform seemed to sag around the curves of her waist, the bodice much too tight around her bust, the fabric of the petticoat and skirt hitching up higher than desired on her thighs because of her rounded hips and rear. The apron kept the waist cinched in, the extra material flattened almost unnoticeable along the hem of it. The shoulders of the gown were not packed with material as were the skirt of the uniform. Instead, it sagged gracefully around her upper arms and criss-crossed on her back, fixed together with a tiny red bow. Her flushed expression and fidgeting did nothing but complete the ensemble, her teeth's grip on her lower lip and averted gaze casting an erotic glow about her.

"Do I...look alright?", Diticia nearly whispered, daring a look at his shoes.

Ryan swallowed, "You look...lovely." He decided that this would be much more chaste an explanation. He did not think her poor heart could take the truth without giving out on her. "Come, there are others things I've gathered in town today.

The raven haired male certainly hand't skipped out on any small thing. He'd bought winter squashes and tea, nuts of all shapes and sizes, a steak, a bushel of apples, a jar of milk. A whole fish, a pound of potatoes, foreign greens and navy beans, Asian spices, three heads of cabbage, two loaves of bread and a keg of beer he set on the table. There were also several types of flour, yeast, spices, creams, and oils to cook with. And in one sizable basket, covered in waxed, pink paper, sat three dozen different cakes and pastries and candies, making Diticia's eyes water, her stomach roaring at the bounty before her.

"I bought two iceboxes to put it all in, and there are a few knives some cooking pots in there too. I also took the liberty of fetching you some proper bed linens and a pillow. You'll be sleeping in my bed and I shall make up one on the floor. I do hope you won't mind that we'll be sharing a room, but I feel that it would be...safest, if that were the arrangement. I intend to get you more books to read and a pad with writing utensils in the case that you should want to use it. Anything you need, do not hesitate to ask."

She was visibly stunned. "I...w-why? All of...this? Why? For a maid?" Her eyes showed genuine perplexity.

He smiled, "What sort of man would I be if I did not treat a lady in my home? Maid or not, a lady should be treated as such, her every need and desire taken care of...Is there more you desire?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, I...this is so much more than I have ever dared to hope for. You kindness is limitless, sir. I promise, I will not fail you. I will fulfill every task you give me, timely and without question. It is the very least I can do after this...blessing you've given me. I'm forever in your debt." Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, but she willed them away, standing and curtsying to the man before her.

"Very well, than.", he said, pleased with her apparent submissiveness. "Would you at all mind preparing dinner, love?"

"Not at all, Master Kuhn.", she curtsied again, grabbing the necessary ingredients, cutlery, and two skillets.

Diticia set to work on a dinner of steak and potato stew, boiled cabbage and navy beans, and toasted bread with cream gravy. She set out a bowl of soup in front of Ryan, slices of the bread and drizzled with gravy and boiled cabbage and beans on the table. She placed the proper utensils and a chilled glass of beer next to his food, laying one of the napkins she'd found across his lap. Finally, she took a seat with her own glass of water and began serving herself. Ryan felt as though she was the one who had given him the blessing in serving him one of the most glamorous looking meals he'd ever eaten-and home cooked at that! He quickly devoured what was in front of him, allowing her to serve him a second portion of stew as she watched with a delighted grin. hen he was in between bites of steak and potatoes and not attacking the gravy and bread like a man that hadn't eaten in years, he asked, "Won't you have any stew? You made enough to feed the Queen's Navy!"

"I'm quite alright, actually.", she giggled, wiping the gravy from her lips. "I actually don't eat meat."

This was something quite unheard of, and Ryan urged her to go on.

"Well, as an indentured servant, I hadn't the luxury of meat. My meals were mostly thin soups, bread, and vegetables. Grains were what got me through the winters. Only the top earners got to eat meat, and as I was preparing the Mistress' meal, I piece of beef fell onto the stove. I was going to put it back in the pot, but I was so hungry that I stuffed it down my gullet before anyone could see me. That night, I grew violently ill, if you'll excuse my blunt words. That was the first and last time I ever ate meat. Never again."

"I see.", Ryan chuckled, covering his mouth as to not show his food. The girl pouted, nibbling a piece of bread testily as he enjoyed this bit of misfortune at her expense.

Eventually, she began to laugh to, the rest of the evening spent enjoying dinner, dessert, and each other's good company. After cleaning up, Diticia helped a less than sober Ryan to his room, setting up a place to sleep on the floor for him. She also put her new pillow next to his, the extra comfort hopefully deterring a hangover the following morning. She pulled back the covers and helped his down onto the 'bed', not at all prepared for him to cling to her and pull her down with him. Landing astride his hips, hands grasping his jacket as his held her hips, she reminded herself that he was merely not in his right mind, and mentally chided herself to limit his drink. She tried her best not to spring away when his hands began to knead the softness of her hips, distracting herself with the task of freeing him of his jacket so he'd have a more comfortable slumber. She was able to pry his hands from herself long enough to pull the garment from his arms and fluff the pillows beneath his head. Diticia flinched when he pressed his nose between her breasts and groaned, his hands finding her hips again as one slid up the curve of her back. She yelped as he pulled her down against what could only be a growing erection, his lips brushing the side of her nose.

Hands trembling in the fabric of his shirt, easily able to slap some sense into him, would not move. Her thighs gripped his hips with fear, even though she sought to be free of the very position it created. The hand on her back slipped up into her mass of curls, holding her head gently steady as his lips fixed themselves onto hers. An immediate heat built in her chest, spreading out toward her shoulders and throat, and then down to her gut-and even her center. She gasped at the strange contact, nearly gagging on air when his tongue slipped into her mouth and found her own hesitant one and wrestled it into submission. And though she will never admit it, even to the day, her body absolutely melted into the intimacy of his embrace, the foreign sensations feeding her hunger for affection that she'd been starved of all her life.

And when she felt the large, safe hands at her hips and rear, she felt neither revulsion nor fear, only the uncertainty of a virgin and the yearning of one never touched to tenderly, so passionately. The wanton cry that tore from her lips when her bucked up into her warm womanhood caught her off guard, her hips trembling when he pressed these parts of their bodies together and repeated the motion, her innermost parts clenching and moistening with her need. She did not know what she needed, and when his mouth found her hardened nipple through her dress, she did not care. All that she knew was that she needed more of whatever it was he was doing to her; it was not the horrible, grotesque thrashing she'd witnessed between the cracks of the other girls' doors when she thought they'd finished with their clients. This was not the hurried scuffles she'd heard behind closed doors when the mayor visited his favorite girl in the alleys behind the brothel, preferring the dark as to not see his own shame. This was pure, controlled bliss, gentle and heady and making her want things she's always despised.

"So beautiful..."

She gazed down at the unbelievably attractive man, a needy sob escaping her lips as she realized that he'd fallen asleep. Pressing her nether regions against his softening lower body, she felt a tear run down her cheek. Not yet. She was not yet finished. She was on her way somewhere and he had not finished showing her the way. He'd left her on the path, exposed and without control over where to go next. And without him, she did not wish to go further.

Quickly gathering herself up, Diticia hurried over onto her own separate bed and pulled the covers over herself, not bothering with stripping off her uniform before burying her face in her hands, her thighs tightly clenched and still trembling. She felt cold, strangely more alone than ever before. And the sound of him softly snoring just a foot away from her made her feel all the more secluded.

For once, she'd dared herself to want.

**Author's Note:**

> (So...? You like it? Stay tuned for the next chapter!)


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